


Ice Cream Tradition

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ignis decides to revive an old childhood tradition of sneaking out of the Citadel.





	Ice Cream Tradition

There were many lost traditions within the Citadel. Ignis knew about most of them. There were festivals and events that had fallen out of favour centuries ago; dates and times honoured by the long dead Kings, whispers of visits and tours that just weren’t possible in a time of stagnant war. There used to be festivals to celebrate the King’s magic, big displays, bold and valiant, that had spread to the nations allied to Lucis in other times of trouble. There were traditions in clothing and food and things passed through generations ever since the Wise set down the laws and Wall and banished the curses from the kingdom. 

There were smaller traditions— the royal duties cobbled together of years, decades, centuries to settle on Noctis’ shoulders as he went from meeting to meeting, conference room to conference room. Ignis a step behind with the ever growing agenda and schedule in front of him. Their steps echoed in the Citadel hallways, the tours several floors below or behind secured barriers as the Prince and King went about their daily events. There were plans for charity events already being whispered in the echoing corridors, the royal visits for the next year planned and penned in and set into scheduled as unchangeable as the towers around them. 

They had started to become a common sight most weekdays, with Noct following the list Ignis presented— of meetings and events and appearances that all demanded his attention. Ignis thought he would be satisfied with the routine, with the sense of accomplishment and tradition as he guided his prince through the needs of the kingdom. 

“Noct,” he thought he would be happy that Noct had been making an effort. That the sneaking off into the city had been reserved for the weekend, for their nights out together— just as planned and scheduled and paced as any of the meetings.

“I know, I know, we’re already late.”

Ignis knew these hallways like his own home. They practically were his home. They had spent years making their own traditions— daily and weekly events, set aside as they grew up. 

“I’m sure the meeting can wait while we get you presentable.” Ignis took Noct’s arm, more than a little concerned when the only resistance received was a confused look at the deviation from the plan. “It will only take a moment.”

He recalled days of youthful chaos, as they ran these same halls, slipping across the polished stone in their rush to avoid their caretakers and guards— the nannies meant to simply mind the quiet royal child and his studious friend. He remembered the way Noct’s laugh in relief as they slipped through the service doors in the kitchen, through the drainage in the gardens, or out the side doors where the Guard and Glaives came and went at regular shifts. He remembered the breathless grins and the wide blue eyes looking at him for instruction as they ran, as they made their escape into the little plaza market a stone’s throw from the Citadel. 

Somewhere along the steady march of years, it seemed that their little adventures had been set aside as another lost tradition. 

“Specs, what’s up? You hate being late.”

He wondered when he had become so predictable. Setting the tablet aside, Ignis loosened Noct’s tie. “And we are certainly late for a very important meeting.”

“What are you doing then?”

“I am making an executive decision, Noct.” He checked the meeting room before slipping in, glad for the moment of quiet. Tie loosened, Ignis slipped it from Noct and cast it aside over a chair. There were plenty of suits for the prince, Ignis decided that Noct looked far too stuffy in all of them. The jacket was next, and he kissed the amused smile as Noct let him have his fun. “We are reviving a very important tradition.”

“There’s a tradition of undressing in meeting rooms?”

“If only,” Ignis loosened his own uniform, not realising just how stifling it had become. “No, there is a tradition of us sneaking out for ice cream.”

The look of surprise was worth it. The mischievous grin made it more so. Noct wasted no time in helping them remove pieces of adornments and formalities until they could pass for casual on the streets surrounding the Citadel walls. 

Getting to the walls was easy, though a quick look confirmed that the crowds at the gates were too thick to slip through— too attuned to the hopeful sightings of the royals as everyday routines were set aside in favour of tourism within the city. Ignis attempted the side doors they used as children, when they were small and quick— able to slip through before any of the adults noticed. He was almost tempted to try a bold method, to simply walk through the crowds with Noct and see if anyone noticed. 

Noct had other ideas. 

“C’mon, Iggy.” 

When they were young, Ignis found that Noct could boost him to the top of the garden walls. There was a within the little barrier between inner walls and outer layers that could be used to shield them from view. When Gladio had joined them on their adventures, his height and strength had been useful in bending branches down for the prince. Now, Noct was capable enough to warp. 

“Did you just use my pen as your focus point?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“I liked that pen.”

“This was your idea.” Noct was grinning as he offered his hand, braced on the tall wall that seemed less imposing now that they had grown. Ignis shook his head in amusement as he scrambled up— the old footholds he remembered from their youth lost over time. 

They had about ten minutes before anyone went looking for them. Before anyone considered to advise the Guard that they might not be in the Citadel. Ignis knew that they had ten minutes before anyone worried, so he texted a very brief apology to Clarus’ personal line with an explanation as he followed Noct into the familiar crowd and market plaza. 

The ice cream vendor was still the same little old man from Galahd they had gone to in their childhood. He was still the same jovial gentleman, if a little greyer now, a little slower. He still smiled and pretended not to know who Noct was as he presented scoops of ice cream in a paper bowl that was far too generous to be a traditional serving. Ignis tipped him well as they found a quiet corner. 

“What brought this on?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Meetings, Specs.”

“This is a meeting. Of sorts.”

“It’s a date. You decided on having a surprise date.”

“Yes, well, it still counts as a meeting.”


End file.
